The Green-Eyed Monster
by iseefireandrain
Summary: Red gets jealous when another man expresses his interests in Liz. Then all hell breaks loose as he finds himself a competitor for her attention, also awakening Liz to any personal agendas Red may have. [Red/Liz with arguments along the way, but an eventual happy ending]
1. Chapter 1

_**The green-eyed monster**_

"It would seem you have an admirer, Lizzie."

For the first time all evening, Liz glances over at Red from where he sits in the leather stool near her, his casual comment capturing her attention. She scrutinizes him in the dim lights doubtfully, wondering if he is bluffing. Although they are inside under a roof, he still wears his fedora as if daylight is streaming around them and it isn't actually in the middle of the night.

"Who? _You_?" She means it mostly as a joke. Kind of.

"As lovely as you look in that dress tonight, Lizzie, it wasn't myself I was referring to." His voice drops dramatically over the pulsating music surrounding them, so much so that she has to lean closer and strain her ears to hear him. "But that guy over there.. opposite us on the other side of the bar..."

Liz raises her eyes to find the man in question; There is too many people standing around mingling among each other, holding their long glasses of beer or chardonnay. No one in particular catches her attention. But then she thinks she spots him; A man in his early thirties or so, in a black suit, his dark hair shoulder-length and combed back, sleek behind his earlobes. He's staring directly at her, and, caught off guard by his confronting interest in her, she flushes and glances down at the glass of bubbling white wine Red brought her instead. She doesn't feel ready to get involved with a man so soon after Tom, so she deliberately changes subject.

"What do you have for me?" she asks Red, looking in his direction but not quite meeting his gaze. She can feel his eyes on her, assessing her reaction to a strangers obvious interest in her. "You forwarded this address to me so that we could meet. I'm assuming it wasn't just because you wanted to play matchmaker, right?" She meets Red's look with an inquiring one of her own.

"Alright, Lizzie. You caught me." Red sighs over the music as he plunges a hand into the breast pocket of his coat, holding an envelope out to her with a flourish. Her interest sparked, Liz accepts it and pushes her glass aside near her elbow, giving herself plenty of room to open the envelope and thoroughly have a look at what's inside.

"Next name on your list?" she guesses, prying the envelope open. Whatever contents are inside, it feels thick.

"Hardly. It's for your own personal use, Lizzie. You can photocopy them and plaster them on the walls vindictively for all to see if that's what you want. I certainly won't be stopping you, whichever decision you choose to take."

Liz glances at him curiously at his words. He isn't facing her direction. He is staring across the bar, not daring to make any form of contact, so no one made the connection that they were more than just two strangers meeting harmlessly for the first time this evening. Liz thinks Red looks unusually tense- his chin set tight, neck rigid- and she tries to follow his gaze. She can't be certain but it appears as if Red is having a stare-down with her supposed, not-so-secret admirer. The man with the shoulder-length hair, she discovers with some relief, isn't staring at just her anymore. His dark eyes dance nervously from Red to her again, as if confused over their relation. It's obvious Red is intimidating the poor guy.

"Hey, cut it out," Liz warns him, trying not to laugh. "I don't know what you're trying to accomplish, but you're definitely scaring the poor guy. He doesn't know where to look. Your like a doberman and he's the chihuahua."

Red hums in satisfaction, ignoring her warning. "It's just as well. He's quivering."

"No wonder," Liz mutters sarcastically. "You were saying?"

Red leans closer to her stool, but his eyes remain glued to the man. "Yes, as I was saying, Lizzie, it's an update." Stunning her, Red chuckles abruptly, then turns his attention to her, his eyes falling on her lips. "I thought you would find it just as riveting as I did when the shots were sent to me." Suddenly he laughs again, shaking his head as he slaps the counter of the bar loudly with his palm, like he is hearing the punch-line to a joke she isn't privy to, and Liz can't stop herself from wondering about the state of his mental health.

Liz sees people glance curiously in their direction at his loud laughter, and she instantly wishes she could hide. Being out in public with Reddington was always full of surprises; She never knew what she was expecting, or what he would do next.

She turns to look at Dembe, who is sitting next to her, but the quiet man is minding his own business, draining ale out of a tall glass.

She arches her brows at him. Red still looks ridiculously on the verge of laughing even more.

"What is so damn funny?" she asks Red in sheer confusion. "I fail to see anything even remotely funny?"

"Laugh and smile, Lizzie." Throwing her in a loop, Red reaches up and runs his warm knuckles gently down her cheek, his voice soft and compelling. Liz winces at the sudden unexpected intimacy of his touch. "Laugh and smile as if I am saying something so terribly entertaining to you."

"Now why would I do that?" she retorts flatly. "What are you trying to do?"

"Just try to look as if you are someone glad to be here with me for once. It wouldn't kill you."

Liz stares him down incredulously, this time unfazed when Red brushes the tendrils of her fringe out of her eyes with his forefinger. His eyes burn into hers, searching deeply, imploring her to play along with whatever game he has in mind.

"_You_ were the one that arranged this meeting, not _me_."

"Well, regardless of your tragic acting, it seems to have done the trick." Putting distance between them, Red leans back on his stool and reaches for his drink. With irritating, lazy smugness in his expression, Red toasts to her then looks straight across the bar, taking in a slow sip of his scotch on the rocks. He smacks his lips together, adding, "Well done, Lizzie."

"Well done, for what?" She didn't realize she had done anything praiseworthy in his books.

"That guy, your admirer... I believe he's long gone now. Thank God he understands the art of subtlety, otherwise he would be hanging around us all night."

Just as it all slowly occurred to Liz, her outrage gets lost on her when someone taps her on the shoulder gently, clearing their throat. Liz turns and is stunned to find the good-looking man from across the bar standing in front of her. So Reddington's behavior hadn't scared him away after all. What a relief. His smile falters slightly as he looks between Liz and Red as he hesitates.

"Er, hello," he says, his voice thick with a Russian accent. "I hope I'm not intruding, but I was wondering if you would care to have a dance with me? It would seem such a waste if you didn't dance at least once."

Astonished, Liz glances quickly at Red. His expression isn't encouraging; A hard mask of disapproval with something else in his shining eyes as he stares at her face. The muscles of his jaw tightens and twitches. But he knows not to have the audacity to comment and Liz watches his diaphragm move as he swallows audibly, waiting for her to make up her own mind.

She smiles up at the man. "You know, I've been waiting for someone to ask me that all night. So thank you. I love to dance."

She feels Red's hand on her back, as he leans his face closer to the side of hers. "Do you want to dance, Lizzie?" Red cuts in, but she ignores him.

Red isn't the man she wants to dance with tonight, especially not after what he just did. No, tonight she wants to experience dancing with another man, someone different.

When she takes the man's hand and let's him drag her to the dance floor, Red feels passed-over, exactly like the unseen envelope of photographs sitting neglected on the bar near her wineglass that he went to all the effort in retrieving for her while his men were at their posts keeping an eye on a very alive, yet poorly recovered Thomas Keen, after Liz had shot and taken care of him.

The green-eyed monster has reared itself, something he hasn't felt in years.

As Red watches her dancing and smiling with another man who completely thwarted his own attempts of making him back off from his girl and not approach her, the green-eyed monster inhabits his body, taking over and spreading through him like bitter poison. This is going to turn into one hell of a long night.


	2. Chapter 2

_**I want to thank you all so much, I was so shocked by the huge response I got to the story, I really wasn't expecting it. It was a great surprise, and I really appreciate it. A big Thank you to RedandLizzie, for recommending this story on her blog. I'm a big fan of the blog, so it was a really touching surprise. Thank you everyone so much! I hope this chapter is all right. Thank you! P.S. sorry for the lack of Red/Liz in this one, I'm just taking it slow and building up to Red exploding and losing all of his carefully contained composure :)**_

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_**Chapter Two**_

"I'm sorry," Liz speaks up loudly over the music as the man takes her hand and leads the way to the dance floor. It's fairly crowded, with people standing around dancing, but they manage to find a space not too close to other people to dance together. "I don't believe I caught your name?"

"I am Nikolai." The man smiles at her kindly. "What is yours?"

"Liz."

"Well, it is wonderful to meet you, Liz." He squeezes her hand and his eyes shine at her brightly in the soft light. "Your husband is a very lucky man to have such a beautiful woman in his life. I hope he doesn't mind me asking you for a dance, but... it just would be a shame for you not to."

As the man wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her in closer so that their bodies are flush together, his words sink fully into her brain. She leans into him, searching his eyes with her own and putting her face inches from his, as she asks, "I'm sorry, but... did you just say 'Husband?"

"Yes, I did say that," he explains, taking her hand and placing it on his shoulder. "The man you were sitting with at the bar, wearing the hat despite it being dark. He is your husband, yes? I am right on assuming so?"

_Red._

He assumes _Reddington _is her _husband? _How bizarre. No one has ever assumed they were a married couple before.

Without her control, Liz's eye's find where she left Red sitting at the bar. She can't help but feel relieved that he is still sitting exactly where he was when she left him a few minutes ago. He hasn't chosen to leave the vicinity, and he's still waiting around to talk to her in spite of her disregarding him for another man.

Liz can tell he is deep in heated conversation with Dembe- probably even about her as the hot topic of conversation- because although he is staring straight at her and her dancing partner on the dance floor, she can also see him shooting off words she is unable to hear over all the noise, while Dembe is watching her also from where he is leaning over towards Red's stool to hear him over the thumping music.

She sees how Red throws his hands up in the air as if to emphasize whatever it is he is talking about with Dembe, and in that instance, she wouldn't have minded being a fly on the wall to hear what he was possibly saying about her.

Although his expression is impassive as ever, she can faintly tell that something is bothering him. It's in the way he holds himself; in his rigid body language and the way it seems as if his mouth is running a mile a minute.

Liz drags her eyes away from him with some difficulty, focusing on the man in front of her instead, who seems to be studying her face closely with his eyes. "No," she laughs nervously, shaking her head. "No, I don't know where that impression came from, but... he isn't my husband. He's far from it, in fact."

She might be mistaken, but she thinks the man, Nikolai, looks relieved. All the tension seems to leave him in a whoosh of air. "I'm glad to hear that, then. I would hate to step on any toes."

"You are definitely not stepping on anyone's toes," she assures him, with what feels like a tight and forced smile. "There's really no toes to step on. I was married, but... it's finished now." She inhales in a deep breath, shrugging, "I really don't know what else to say on that. It's... done." She knows she can't tell the man what truly happened to her marriage with Tom, but she doesn't exactly want to. Liz was certain it would be a turn-off for any man to hear, and turning this man off isn't something she finds she wants to do tonight.

She feels ready to move on. What happened with Tom is in the past, something now done and over. Tom's dead and... she was the one that was responsible for that. Her throat tightens abruptly as images of her last few minutes with Tom play in her mind. She knows, in the back of her mind, that she isn't completely prepared to let go of Tom and the person he made himself out to be when they were together. Letting go and moving on seems as if it will be the hardest thing she will ever have to do, but... she had to do it, whether it was by a new man coming into her life or not.

"I have to say, I'm a little surprised that he is not your husband..." Nikolai's words tear through her thoughts and she makes herself look up at him.

"Oh. Why's that?"

"Because he looks so..." Nikolai pauses for a moment, as if searching for the right words, "...So taken by you. Like a man in love. Just... looks and the way he was touching you. I honestly assumed he was your husband. That is why it is so... _surprising_ that you say he is not? Are you _sure_ he is not your husband?"

"Well, he's _not_ my husband. _Absolutely _not."

Liz can't help but wonder if this man is accusing her of lying and pretending that Red isn't her husband. But then why would she lie about something like that? There would be... no need. She catches Red from behind Nikolai's shoulder as he stands from the stool with his hands in his coat pockets, staring right at them. Heat radiates its way up the base of her neck and her face as she meets his eyes from behind Nikolai's shoulder and then she finds herself having to look away to avoid him entirely. This man's massive misunderstanding... assuming they were husband and wife... its bewildering on her. How can anyone get that impression?

"We're just partners. We work together, that's all."

"And are you sure _he_ knows that?" Nikolai asks her outright. "That you are just partners and... no more than that? Because, the man I was seeing with you before appeared as if he didn't?"

The subject feels too dangerous and unsettling on Liz. She often wondered what it was that made her so special, and why Red had planted himself so suddenly into her life the way he had. The answer to that question still remained a mystery to this day.

She goes to peer at Red again over Nikolai's shoulder, but Red has somehow... mysteriously vanished. Dembe is still standing there at the bar, looking as if he is guarding her glass of wine for her, but Reddington... The stool he was sitting in is abandoned and unused, along with the one she was sitting in previously before Nikolai invited her to dance with him.

Her heart flops in her chest- an unpleasant sensation- as she lets her eyes roam around the busy room, searching for him among all the numerous people standing around, minding their own businesses and enjoying themselves. She spots no sign of Red anywhere she looks; He isn't at the bar ordering himself another drink, nor is he near Dembe talking with him and going wild with the hand gesticulations anymore. So... where is he? How can a man just... slip away completely unnoticed by her?

"Something wrong?" Nikolai asks her loudly. "Are you looking for someone? Where is your... your partner?"

"Good question. I don't know where he went. But he's probably just sulking in a corner somewhere." She says that, not for him, but for herself. To ease her mind. But Liz knows something is wrong; A bad feeling overcomes her, knotting her stomach. She feels as if something terrible is impending on them, all due to Red's sneaky disappearance.

Red has never been the easiest person for her to understand or get along with. Yet, being around him for as long as she has, Liz feels as if she does understand him on some level; maybe not why and how he does the things he does, but she understands certain things about the man he is quite well, she believes.

He can be unpredictable at times, and that made him dangerous. Like an animal. He is capable of committing terrifying, savage deeds, whenever he felt his life personally- and Liz's- was at stake. Red had made it clear that if you cross Liz, you were crossing him as well; and no one usually crosses Raymond Reddington and gets away with it.

But now, the only threat in the room she felt in operation, was him.

Who knows what he is up to? He's capable of doing anything, to anyone. Except her.

She didn't realize, until just now, that ignoring him and choosing to dance with another man could be some kind of a dangerous game to him. A challenge, a thrill, and Red always seems to enjoy challenges.

Now she feels petrified of what he might be up to. Maybe she's only over thinking everything and she hopes he isn't the type of man to do anything so outlandish as interfering on her unwelcome while she's trying to have some harmless fun in dancing with a stranger, someone new. Liz hears her heart pounding in her ears over the frantic bass line of the music, and she lifts her hand from Nikolai's shoulder, pressing her palm flat into the flushed skin of her collarbone. She can feel her pulse beating under her skin as she breathes deeply, fretting over the multiple possibilities of the unknown when it comes to Red and his actions.

She startles when Nikolai moves, his mouth and voice suddenly near her ear, "If you want, we can go searching for your friend? I'm sure he isn't too far from here. He's probably around here... somewhere. I'm sure there is no need to worry about him."

Liz tries to appear careless as she meets his eyes. "No, it's fine. I'm not worried about him at all. He's a big boy; I'm sure he can handle himself..." _More like, she's just worried what he might do, and what he is capable of doing..._

But all those nerves over his disappearance seem a somewhat wasted effort. Looking around wildly, at last she finds Red, standing just barely a meter away from them to the left of her.

Hat no longer on his head, she notices the way he turns the brim of it over and over in his hands, as if using it as something to keep his hands preoccupied and busy, as if to stop them from doing something else they probably shouldn't do. Relief hits Liz in copious amounts as she runs her eyes up his coat, before finally meeting and settling on his face. His eyes glint at her in the soft light, luminous with warmth and something else she hasn't recognized glistening in them before as the muscles of his jaw slacken and his lips part slightly, revealing the tight clenching of his teeth. Then she notices the way his eyes flicker to her dancing partner, scrutinizing him in a somewhat critical way, and that warmth is... gone, just as quickly as a sharp knife slicing through bread.

To Liz, it seems as if the entire world has came to a screeching halt as she sees him start to approach them quickly. In a rather flamboyant way, she watches as Red flings his hat across the sea of heads in the room like a discarded frisby and with such speedy movements she didn't know she was capable of, she intercepts him, fortunately just before he can do anything to her unsuspecting dancing partner.

"Red, what are you doing?" she hisses quietly. "Whatever you are thinking of doing right now, please, don't."

The amused hiss of air through his teeth and the slight shaking of his head at her words stuns her. Liz tries to meet his eyes, but he isn't helping her. Red seems perfectly eager to avoid her gaze; Either by staring at the man she was dancing with, or just by looking at anyone else in general. As if she isn't there, standing directly in front of him.

"What is wrong with you? Why are you acting like this?" The instance the two questions come flying relentlessly out of her mouth, something clicks. "My God, are you ignoring me right now all because I agreed to dance with another man? Is that what this is all about? Because I wouldn't dance with you, and I'm dancing with someone else? Is this a kind of weird... _jealousy_ thing that I'm not understanding?"

Stunning her all over again, Red tilts his head back and laughs at her words, tongue pushing out the side of his cheek, like she's being so ridiculous to make such an assumption of him. If Liz didn't know any differently, she would have suspected he was high or on some illicit substance, but now, she thought she knew better. Laughing and diverting the eyes- it's Red's way of avoidance, in something he didn't want to have to deal with answering.

Deny it as he might, Liz took it as a confirmation.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Firstly, I own nothing to do with the Blacklist. I'm just a huge Red and Liz fan here._**

**_I want to apologize for taking so long to update! Real life has been hectic and I've moved house, so my computer wasn't up and running yet. Sorry for the delay, but I hope this makes up for it. _**

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**_Chapter Three_**

Liz has seen how volatile and dangerous Red can get when he's angry or feeling threatened in some way. She's experienced it firsthand, and just by looking at him, she knows he's feeling angry and threatened now. The reason into it isn't one she's entirely sure about, but she knows it couldn't be about her, about... Nikolai and dancing with him. Surely older, mature men know jealousy is a ridiculous emotion, right?

She feels a little queasy when Red makes a spinning gesture with his hand, beckoning her dancing partner to go near him. She still gets this terrible feeling something bad is going to happen, especially when Nikolai approaches Red naïvely. Much to her relief, no punches are thrown. Just words.

_"Come closer, my friend. It seems that you and I need to have a quick and harmless little chat."_

Oh, of course, Liz thinks bitterly, Of course Red would know how to speak Russian. Apparently he knows everything.

Liz feels herself tense up as Red and Nikolai step closer to each other. She watches them carefully as Red slips his arm around Nikolai's shoulder, holding him tight to his side.

_"She says you are not her husband,_" Nikolai says nervously, and she sees how Red nods and pats the man on his shoulder casually at whatever he just said to him. Liz's stomach drops when Red leans over to speak in his ear.

_"Yes, that is true. I am not her husband, but make no mistake, I am always there with her. Like a husband, you could even say..."_

She may be wrong, but Nikolai looks uneasy, as if he's bracing himself for something unpleasant Reddington is about to tell him in his mother tongue. Why does this feel like a pissing contest to her? For once, she wishes she knew how to speak the language fluently, because she has no idea what Red is going to tell the young man or what his intentions are. She doesn't understand what they are saying to each other and maybe it's just her, but the entire thing feels terribly awkward on her.

_"You see, what you have to understand is that her and I, we are a package deal,"_ Red goes on in Russian._ "She has had an... incredibly rough start to life. You must understand that whatever happens to her, it happens to me also. Wherever she goes, I go." _Liz watches Red's face attentively as he speaks, hoping body language will help figure out some of what the two men are talking about. Red has never been the easiest person for her to read, but there is an undeniable sense of danger emulating off him, she feels. His expression is stern and intense as he peers deeply into Nikolai's eyes, as if he's making a threat. _"If you want her, you will always have to get through me first."_

Nikolai shakes his head slightly, and she can tell he is feeling both afraid and uncertain on how to take Red and his behaviour. Really, she can't blame him. Red definitely isn't looking the most friendliest person in the world right now. If it had been her in Nikolai's place, she'd feel a little intimidated as well. _"Er, I am not sure I am following what you are trying to say, sir?"_

_"If you choose to go down this path with her, you must understand that I will always be there." _Red's voice is flat, gravelly, and solemn. _"I will always be there, no matter what. If you choose to go out on a date with her, if you choose to go down this path with her, you must remember that I will be there. Somewhere near... always watching out for her. Standing around in a shadow, watching you, making sure you treat her well and keep her safe. _She will be fine and safe, and she will not get hurt by you. _If not, there will be some... minor penalties to make sure you stay in line. Are you now following me? _

_"Er, yes. I believe I am now."_

_"Excellent."_ As if a spell has been broken, Red finally looks at Liz, all that unnerving intensity fortunately gone. _"Now with all that said and done, let me buy you a drink, my friend."_

The night gets even worse, in Liz's perspective anyway. They find an empty table to sit at, and Liz is left feeling bored and forgotten about when the two men sit closely together and fail to acknowledge her. It's as if she isn't there, as if the two men are in their own little worlds; One that doesn't include her. The two men converse in Russian, laughing heartily over something she's not understanding, and Red's buying Nikolai drink after drink. While she's glad that tension has seemed to disappear from both of the men and that they are getting along, it's annoying not knowing what either one of them are saying to each other.

It's so typical of Red to steal her thunder. She swears he always has to be the center of attention, with everyone.

After what seems like hours have gone passed as she sits there silently in her seat, turning her glass of chardonnay around with her fingers while trying to gauge their facial expressions towards one another, the Russian stops and Nikolai gets to his feet. He turns to tell her something in Russian, but then he remembers she doesn't speak the language, so he laughs at himself in embarrassment and slips readily into English for her again. "Er, excuse me," he says politely. "I am just going to the restroom."

Liz nods and forces a smile, pleased that at least he hasn't forgotten about her completely.

Once he's gone, she leans over the table, fixing her eyes on Red. "Translations please? What were you two talking about over there?"

Red observes her for a moment in a disconcerting way, head cocked to the side.

"Good Lord, that man is hilarious," he finally says, biting the side of his mouth and shaking his head, as if he can't believe it. "Shame about the horrendous hair though, but that's irrelevant. You're really missing out, Lizzie."

"I happen to like the shoulder-length hair," she says in defense for the man. She clasps her hands together in her lap, wringing her wrists. "Well,_ I_ like him anyway," she decides weakly, shrugging. "He's... cute." Mentioning another man's attractiveness to Red feels strange. It isn't something she would ordinarily do, but she figures there is really no sense hiding it. Besides he was the one that brought it to her attention that the young man was interested in her in the first place. "Pity I can't understand what either one of you are saying. The visuals on him are very nice to look at, though." She's a woman with a healthy sexual appetite. It's only natural she notices these things.

She notices how Red's eyes narrow at her and his lips thin over her comment and he stares at her for a moment thoughtfully, chewing the inside of his cheek. She has to look away, disturbed by the intensity he possesses with just even one silent look. It's impossible for her to know how he is feeling over that remark, but she swears he's uncomfortable over the idea of her starting something with another man after Tom. Maybe he's just worried she'll fall for the wrong man again, since Tom was evidently the worst man of all that she could have possibly fallen for?

Or maybe... maybe it's for another reason altogether? Could Red feel jealous? She had mentioned it to him before, but he had only just laughed it off. Maybe it's all in her head then? Surely Red would never get jealous; For someone to get jealous, there has to be romantic feelings involved, and Red does not harbour them for her, as far as she could tell.

When she looks around the bar to distract herself, she feels Red's eyes on her, watching and observing her every move. Red's a bit like an animal, she decides then. A lion, a wolf. Something dangerous that waits for the precise moment to strike. That moment is now, she realizes, when he starts to speak to her.

"Why else do you think I suggested we meet here tonight, Lizzie?" His words are low and muted but there is a bite with each one of them, his voice a sharp infliction, as if he's attempting to make a point; A tone she usually hasn't heard him address her with before. No, she realizes there has been one other time; When she had informed him over the phone that the Kingmaker was dead. It's as if he thinks she has failed him, done something wrong to deeply offend him. "Why else do you think I_ specifically_ asked for us to meet here tonight? For you to go off and galavant with the first man who asks you for a dance? No, that _wasn't_ the reason, Lizzie."

Fingers finding the scar on the inside of her wrist, she feels her mouth pop open at his words incredulously. "Are you seriously going to do this right now?"

She turns and meets his eyes, and he looks just as displeased as his voice sounds.

"Yes," he says brusquely, his mouth tightening, his eyes cold. "Yes, I _am_ going to do this now."

Liz thinks back to several nights ago, how he was telling her its unhealthy; Unhealthy of her to live how she is now, jumping from one motel room to the next, always looking behind her shoulder fearing Tom would appear behind her. He told her it was time to let go and move on, that she should consider dating another man and opening a new book, because not all men are like Tom and despite how she may feel about herself, she's special and worthy of love, maybe even more than she can possibly comprehend.

That was all that he told her, just three nights ago. Isn't she doing that now? She's moving on, and opening herself up to the idea of getting to know this Nikolai, if Red could just only give them a couple of minutes to themselves so that she could really get to know him... Why was Red telling her one thing and then doing another? What is with all of his aloofness?

Her brows furrow. "You know, I don't understand you," she says flatly, holding his gaze for all its worth. _Elizabeth Keen is not intimidated by Raymond Reddington,_ she chants to herself. "Didn't you tell me a couple of days ago that its time for me to move on? Tom isn't coming back and that I ought to consider starting up dating again, isn't that what you told me? That the way I'm living now is unhealthy? And now, here you are, telling me and demonstrating you feel otherwise. Which is it, Red?"

He opens his mouth, then closes it, as if retreating from their argument early. But then he says insistently, "All of what I told you doesn't even matter right now, Lizzie. What matters is that you're here _with me_ tonight." He doesn't even need to raise his voice to set her off. His comments cut deeply into her like a knife. "I didn't realize I was your escort or your chauffeur, while you go off frolicking with other men."

"Frolicking?" she repeats in outrage. "It was_ one_ dance, that's it. I would hardly call that frolicking. I mean, you_ told_ me-"

"All of that_ doesn't even_ matter. We're going off course on the subject, Lizzie," Red speaks over her measuredly. "The fact of the matter is that the entire reason that I suggested we meet here tonight, was because I have some-" He looks at something past her shoulder and abruptly groans, resigned to silence. "Oh, hell. He's coming back. Look friendly and not so sour."

Though still frustrated by their conversation, Liz manages to smile when she turns and looks behind her shoulder and sees Nikolai squeezing his way through a group of people to return to their table. He smiles at her, and she realizes the visuals are very, very wonderful. He's very good-looking, a man she wouldn't mind getting to know more about on a intimate level - if only Red would leave them alone to themselves.

Once he finally reaches their table, he chooses to sit next to her this time, and Liz can't help the widening of her smile and the inner satisfaction she feels over his choice to sit by her this time, and not Reddington. Finally, he's paying attention to her now. _Now it's her turn._

When she dares to look over at Red quickly from where he sits, leaning slightly towards the table with his arm slung over the back of the spare chair beside him, his look is so piercing that it could have even had the potential to make an ice glacier melt. She raises her eyebrows at him, letting him make of that what he will, and then she shifts in her seat to give Nikolai her undivided attention.

After a few basic conversations shared with the man, it's obvious to her that English is not his first language, but he speaks it well enough, so getting to know him isn't all that much of a problem at all.

She learns he lives in St. Petersburg and that he moved to the US recently. He tells her a few jokes- and Red isn't wrong there; the man_ does_ have a great sense of humor which she finds extremely attractive- and makes a few subtle moves, like placing his hand on her arm when they both laugh and involuntarily leaning his shoulder against hers.

He isn't full-on with her, which is something she appreciates. He doesn't do or say anything that makes her feel uncomfortable, and he hasn't revealed anything troubling or that one fatal flaw that instantly turns a woman off a man. He seems like a polite, sincere, and gentle man- _nothing_ like Tom, which is even better.

By the time he glances down at his watch, Liz has already officially made up her mind.

He has made a very good impression on her and, hopefully, he'll want to do something with her another time.

"I am afraid I'll have to call it a night now," Nikolai says, frowning. "I was wondering if perhaps I could get your number? We should go out on a date sometime. Maybe dinner?"

It's the best suggestion Liz has heard in a while, and she's beaming, feeling surprisingly excited at the idea.

"I'd love to," she says softly, trying to appear not too eager or desperate. She hears Red slam his glass of scotch down on the table, probably intentionally to mar the moment and distract her, but she doesn't bother giving him the satisfaction. Was it wrong of her to find Red's reaction so very amusing? She knew it was probably dangerous to push him, but she hasn't seen him act this way before. "Dinner with you sounds amazing."

"Great, let me just get your number."

Grinning at her, he shoves a hand inside his jacket, feeling around for his phone. Once he pulls it out, he raises his dark eyebrows at her, telling her he's ready for her to start telling him her number. When she starts giving him her number, she allows herself to look in Red's direction, hardly surprised by what she sees on his face. He definitely isn't pleased, he looks sullen and moody about it all, and she's not completely sure why. Why is he acting so strange?

"I will give you a call hopefully tomorrow or the next day," Nikolai says, and much to her surprise and pleasure, he leans over to lay a kiss on her cheek. Her eyes are still on Reddington perplexedly as he does it. Red's mouth pinches tight and he nods to himself a couple of times before averting his eyes and peering inside the contents of his glass instead, as if such a display sickens him in some weird way.

"Fantastic," Liz breathes breathlessly, quickly turning her eyes to Nikolai as he leans back from her with a smile. The smell of his cologne lingers between them, and she never knew a man could smell so divine. Or edible. "I'm looking forward to it. I haven't been out for dinner in such a long time."

"Oh, then I will make it worth your while," Nikolai promises her, laughing. Then his eyes shift over to Red, and she notices his smile immediately falters and he looks awkward. "Er, nice meeting you. Very nice."

She hears Red just grunt impolitely in response, and as she watches Nikolai move away from sight to leave, she feels like she's burning up with a fever. _How exciting!_ A first date since Tom. She's still smiling widely as she shifts slightly in the seat to face Red, her mind elsewhere. If Nikolai does actually end up calling her, what is she going to wear out to dinner? Where will he take her? It's been too long since she's been out on a date, since Tom and her were married, and no one usually tended to express their interest in her since she was off-limits as a married woman.

But now, things were finally starting to look up for her.

**Hope you enjoyed this one? I thought Red intimidating him might be a very "Red" thing for him to do :P I was thinking about for the next chapter Liz going on her date and Red sabotaging it. Does that sound interesting?**


	4. Chapter 4

_**Merry Christmas everyone! Hope you enjoy this one! :)**_

_**Chapter Four**_

Lizzie is distracted on the drive to her motel room, and Red can tell.

He's learned to study her throughout their time of working together as partners, and study her well. He recognizes the dreamy look in her eyes as she stares outside the tinted window on her side as the scenery goes whizzing past them. Her slender hands are folded in her lap, one finger absently tracing the outline of her scar, while her brows are furrowed in deep concentration.

He has a fair idea where her mind is drifting off to. She's probably thinking of the Russian. What was his name again? Truth was, Red couldn't be bothered memorizing the man's name, nor did he see any point in doing so. He feels unsettled enough as it is, over analyzing his feelings after seeing another man act bluntly interested in Lizzie.

He expected to feel happy for her. Supportive, even. If anyone deserves happiness and love in this life, he knows it's Lizzie.

Instead, he feels the complete opposite, and he's not entirely sure why. Feelings certainly can be strange. They creep up on you, unexpectedly.

He moves uncomfortably in the backseat, shifting his right leg over the other as he watches her without her noticing.

There's a peculiar feeling in his stomach; A feeling that has refused to leave him ever since the Russian made a move and expressed his interests in Lizzie.

He puts it all down to disappointment. After all, the sole reason he had brought her out tonight was not for him to just sit by and watch as another man made the moves on her; but to reveal to her that her husband isn't dead, like she assumes he is. No, he's actively on the move in another country.

He moves, sliding a hand inside the pocket of his coat, feeling out the thick envelope that contains the pictures of evidence inside it. But then he realizes she seems happy and in a positive frame of mind right now, and he decides he can't do that to her. It'd be like wounding a dog, and if there is something Red adamantly would not do, it's wounding a poor, defenseless animal.

Even a man like himself has standards.

So he decides he'll let Lizzie go on believing for a moment longer. What harm will it do?

The car stops outside her motel room, and Red quickly turns his head, listening to her unclipping her seat belt. He feels words resting on the tip of his tongue, words desperately dying to be said to her.

"Night," she says simply to both Dembe and himself tiredly, and he hears the door open.

He wants to say something. Anything. Now ought to be the right time to say it, _it_, if he's ever going to. Yet, all he can manage formally is, "Yes, goodnight, Lizzie. Sleep well."

Red doesn't bother watching her as she unlocks her motel room door up, but he notices Dembe does, making sure she's entered her room safely. Once Dembe seems satisfied, he reverses out and gives Red a brief glance between the space in the seats.

"Where to now?"

"To the hotel, my friend," Red decides, feeling not much in the mood for anything else. Well, he certainly wouldn't mind indulging in a bottle of scotch or two. Getting drunk sounds appealing and a fabulous idea. Hopefully all that liquor will drown these strange feelings he is experiencing out, whatever they may be?

Scotch always tends to help rationalize those pesky feelings nagging their way up to the surface.

* * *

When Liz wakes the next morning, she realizes a change is long overdue.

She has over an hour and a half left to herself before she meets Reddington at the place they have arranged regarding the next Blacklist target, and she selects her clothes for the day with more care than she usually does; A ruffled floral blouse, her blazer, and skinny leg jeans with her three-inch heeled boots. She takes her wedding ring off and stows it away in the bottom drawer near the fold-out bed in the room. Then she takes a quick stop to the hairdressers a block down the road from where she's currently staying at.

As people get themselves inked to reminds themselves of a momentous change in their lives, she takes a less dramatic course of action, in getting her hair chopped into a modern, sexier style. Now that Tom's gone and their divorce has finally been settled- she kept his surname to remind herself of the woman she once was, and what she's been through and survived- she feels she's ready to turn a new page, become a new woman. What better way to feel like a new woman than getting your hair cut into a different style?

Little bells clang together as she opens the door and greets the female hairdresser. As she sits in the chair and the woman swivels her around towards the mirror, making pleasant starter conversation, she studies herself in the mirror thoughtfully, contemplating on what to do with her hair while a plastic cape is fastened around her shoulders.

"I want something modern and sexy, but still somewhat professional for work," she informs the hairdresser, who nods along supportively.

When the hairdresser starts cutting her hair until it's a length just below her earlobes, Liz can't help but feel oddly empowered and energized. This is the new Elizabeth Keen, a new woman.

A woman ready to put her past with Tom aside, and build a new one.

Nikolai, the man who had expressed his interest in getting to know her last night and taking her number down to call her for a date, may have contributed to her decision in getting her hairstyle changed. _Maybe a little._

When she pays and leaves, making her way towards the meeting place Reddington arranged with her, she feels strangely unsettled when it dawns on her that he's already there, over thirty minutes earlier than their scheduled time.

He's sitting on a bench, engrossed in the day's addition of the newspaper. Her eyes scan the area and she finds Dembe standing tense and alert a few meters away near and under the shade of a tall tree, still within range of eyesight, looking out for any unexpected trouble they may find themselves in.

Their eyes meet and she feels herself flush when Dembe gives her a curt nod of approval over her haircut. She finds herself strangely dreading Red's reaction to the change, if any.

Knowing the routine and how it all works between them, she doesn't greet him as she sits on the bench next to him, pretending they have no connection to each other whatsoever and that their meeting is just a mere coincidence.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Red lick the tip of his thumb before using it to turn to the next page in the paper. Something about such a simple gesture, it excites her sexually in a way she cannot believe; It hasn't always been that way, but it's happened a lot for her recently. She puts it down to just simply missing Tom and the intimate side of their marriage, nothing else. Then he at last allows himself to look her way for a brief, meaningless moment, and their eyes meet and hold. It's impossible for her to know what he is feeling on the new haircut, but she sees the way his eyes focus on the most glaringly obvious change about her appearance for a prolonged second, before he turns away again, focusing back on his paper with a quiet sigh.

Her heart sinks for some reason. _But what should she care, if he doesn't comment on her haircut?_

To Red's dismay, the unpleasant feeling in his stomach that he had experienced last night has resurfaced again. Lizzie's gotten her hair cut, and it is really no mystery why.

_The Russian._

Through inward reflection last night over a few indulgent fingers of scotch, he had come to the discovery that what he was indeed feeling, was nothing more than mere jealousy; Jealousy, a ridiculous emotion, of all things.

To see Lizzie has gotten a hair cut, changed her appearance, makes him feel strangest of all. She has evidently gone out of her way to do it for the Russian, since he explained to her that he was interested in going on a date with her sometime soon. Had he already called Lizzie and made a time with her?

Red realizes what bothers him most of all, is that he isn't Number One.

She has been his Number One, ever since he surrendered himself into the F.B.I. Everything he basically did from that point forward, was all for her. Assembling a list of notorious and wanted criminals so she could catch them and succeed in her career. If anyone hurts Lizzie, he makes it his sole priority to hurt them back in return. Keep her safe. Comfort her. Make sure she is never without.

This haircut was not done with him in mind. It was for the Russian. And hell, it stung a little.

Possessiveness. It occurred to him he was naturally possessive over his Lizzie, and that he wanted most of her time, her attention. Especially when it came to cases.

"What do you have for me?" Liz finally asks, not bothering to hide her impatience. Just to make her suffer a little, Red ignores her, shaking the paper out. "Red?"

She knows he is only pretending to just notice her, when he looks in her direction in feigned surprise. "Oh, yes. Hello Lizzie." Finally, he folds up the paper and gives her his undivided attention. "You've had a hair cut, I see."

"Yeah. I just... I felt like I needed a change. It's not a big deal."

He decides to deliberately leave out the fact he thinks she looks stunning, as she always does, regardless of a hairstyle change. Instead, he gets straight to the point. Their current Blacklister. "Speaking of changes, Lizzie, I take it that you have read yesterdays-" Cutting through his words, her phone starts ringing in her pocket. "Who is that, Lizzie? Oh, no, don't bother telling me. I think I can guess on my own."

She raises her eyebrows and checks the caller I.D on her phone. Unknown number. "Sorry, I think I should answer this. It could be something important."

_What could be more important than solving their current cases? _Red thinks to himself sourly.

Flipping open her phone, she holds her cell to her ear. "Hello? Elizabeth Keen speaking."

"Ah, hello. It's Nikolai."

Liz feels her heart rate pick up at the sound of his voice. _He's already calling her? He must be desperate._

"Yes, hello. I had a great time meeting you last night."

"Yes, me also." He gives out a throaty laugh on the other line. "About that date, I was wondering if you were available tonight?"

"Tonight?" Liz feels on the ridiculous verge of laughing incredulously. She turns self-consciously to check and make sure Reddington isn't eavesdropping. Much to her relief, it doesn't look as if he is. But when he gets to his feet, she realizes she has to hurry it up. "Sure, tonight is actually great. I'm free tonight. Where in particular did you feel like going for dinner?"

She watches Red as he straightens his vest and readjusts his fedora before tucking his newspaper securely under his arm and then he's off, strolling towards where Dembe is standing. Liz's mouth pops open in confusion and she stands hurriedly, wrapping their conversation up.

"Fantastic. I'll see you tonight then. 7.30. Bye."

She hurries, picking up her pace to meet Red and Dembe across the grass.

"It was just Nikolai. Apparently he wants to go out to dinner tonight, but that's really enough about it. What were you going to tell me about the case? You have my thorough attention. I need to know what to say to everyone back at the office."

"Well, that is really too bad, Agent Keen." Red gives her an odd tight-lipped smile as Dembe passes him something. "Despite what you might think, my world doesn't revolve around you."_ What a falsehood of the grandest kind._

"What?" She huffs out, taken aback. _Who said it ever did?_ "Since when did I say it did revolve around me?"

"Believe it or not, I have my own life to live and business to conduct also. Right now, I'm late to one of my appointments." He hands her a folder and turns to Dembe quickly. "Dembe, go get the car ready so that we can leave immediately. With some luck, we'll arrive just precisely in time."

"Wait, you're leaving all ready? But we haven't-"

"All you need to know is in that folder right there, Agent Keen. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a date myself. Have fun with yours." Liz doesn't miss the hint of sarcasm in his voice as Red climbs into the backseat of the car once Dembe pulls up beside him.

Liz stands there helplessly as she watches the car glide off and disappear from view, gaping with her mouth open. _What the hell was going on with Red lately? _Ever since last night, she's noticed he has been acting strange with her. Distant and cold, somehow. As if she has personally attacked him. She can't even remember doing anything to him. So why?

She immediately puts it down to him being a male. Even men like Reddington are complicated to understand.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Hey guys, hope you enjoy this one. The story will end probably next chapter, or maybe two more. There'll be a bit of angst as Liz tries to sort out what's going on, but it'll be resolved. :) Hope this isn't terrible, and I do hope neither Liz nor Red are too OOC. I'm a dude kind of basing this on personal experience so I hope it isn't too badly written. Thanks so much for being so kind, I appreciate it. Oh, and I own nothing regarding the BL, of course. I'm just a fan and faithful watcher.**_

* * *

_**Chapter Five**_

"Oh great," Liz grumbles under her breath, searching her bag frantically for the keys to get into her motel room. "I'm gonna be late to the first date I've had since Tom. Fantastic."

She gets inside, whirling the door closed and slamming her bag down on the floor. It's already past six at night, and she's supposed to be meeting Nikolai at the restaurant in less than an hour and a half. On the bright side, at least she still has a decent amount of time to prepare. She wants to put a good foot forward tonight, and make a great impression on him.

She tears off the clothes she wore to work, climbs into the shower, and lets the hot spray of water warm and waken her up after a tiring day. They had been successful in bringing in the Blacklister from Reddington's list and, like every other time afterwards, she felt both physically and mentally drained. Her arms were aching and so were her legs. Honestly, she desired nothing more than to just put on a comfy tank top and shorts and stay in for the evening to recuperate, as she usually did. But obviously, tonight, resting was going to have to wait for a good few hours.

She had a date and someone was expecting her to be there. Now isn't the time.

By the time she's washed her hair, she feels immediately better and refreshed as she climbs out of the shower. Now she has to decide what to wear, and she feels a bit stuck. God, she hasn't been out on a date with someone for what feels like over three years. The only man she went out on dates with was Tom when they had first met. He had been her first boyfriend, first husband, first... everything. And now look how that has turned out!

Briskly drying herself with the towel, she wraps it around her body and goes back into the other room, trying to figure out what to wear. Her hair drips and clings to her face as she searches around in a panic. She doesn't exactly want to look as if she is trying to hard, but at the same time, she does. Most of her old clothes she had thrown out, since moving from motel room to motel room, she couldn't afford to bring much with her. What she did keep, was that gorgeous red dress she wore on the night her and Red infiltrated the Syrian Embassy. She pulls it out of her suitcase, inspecting it uncertainly.

Would a dress be too much for a first date? Or should she try for something a little more understated, casual, and comfortable?

Checking the time on the alarm clock near the bed, she realized she really didn't have much time to fuss around. The red dress will have to do, for tonight. Hanging it carefully on the bathroom doorknob, she went back in, letting the steam out of the bathroom while she got changed into some black lace panties and a matching bra. She wanted to look good from the skin outwards, just for when Nikolai ended up coming into her motel room. Not that she'd expect to fall into bed with a man she hardly knew well, not so soon anyway. But it's always a possibility.

She's just fixing on her makeup and puckering her lips to cover them with a coating of plum-colored lipstick, when there comes a knock on the door. In a panic, she makes sure she's completely covered by the towel before she approaches the drawer near her bed, listening carefully. As far as she knew, she wasn't expecting any company tonight. So who was there outside the front door?

Sliding the drawer open slowly, she grabs her gun, pulls back the safety lock, and holds it steadily in front of her as she tiptoes towards the front door. Startling her, another knock comes; A sound more urgent and louder this time around. Holding her breath and angling the gun higher, she mentally prepares herself and flings the door open a crack, slipping the nozzle of the gun out so that it hopefully deters her unexpected visitor.

"Who is it?" she demands firmly. "Who's there?"

"Now, now. That's not very nice, Lizzie," Red's voice suddenly comes from through the dark crack. "Is that how you greet most of your visitors nowadays?"

"Goddamn it, Red," she breathes, feeling both relieved and annoyed that it's only him.

Lowering the gun to the floor, she flicks the safety back on before stepping aside to let him in the room. She doesn't even have the time to feel self-conscious about wearing only a towel wrapped around herself, when Red pushes his way inside and closes the door completely shut on themselves. When he turns around to look at her, Liz tries to ignore the way his eyes roam over the damp towel covering her body and her dripping hair, taking in her state of undress. When he removes his hat, she notices his left eyebrow quirk at the sight of her bare legs. _What's that all about?_

Suddenly feeling too exposed, she tightens her grip on the towel, feeling her heart fluttering nervously against her ribcage. To her relief, Red turns his eyes elsewhere, making himself busy by setting his hat down on the top of the old television set in her room. Although his expression is unreadable, she sees the muscle in his cheek twitch.

"You really do have the worst timing," she gets out in a rush. "I was just getting ready to get changed and leave. What are you doing here?"

"Have I come at an inconvenient time, Lizzie?" He has the nerve to sound innocent, the bastard. She mightn't know what he's playing at, but surely he knows she's got her date tonight. After all, no doubt he overheard the conversation on the phone this morning.

"Oh, what do you think?"

Not bothering to wait for his answer, she rushes into the bathroom, grabs the dress of the doorknob, and closes the bathroom door halfway to give herself some privacy. She doesn't exactly want him to see her getting dressed. He starts talking, rambling some pitiful, half-assed excuses, but she isn't really listening. Dropping the towel at her feet, she slides into the dress and fixes the straps over her shoulders. Then she pushes the door back open and searches for the hairdryer. She plugs it in, feeling strung-out and tense and simmering with irritation at his unexpected visit.

"You have to try these, Lizzie. Seaweed pretzels."

She scrunches her face up in the mirror, brushing out her damp hair. "They make seaweed pretzels now?"

"Apparently they do. Hence, why I brought them over."

"Right, so you came all the way over here just so that we could eat pretzels together? Is that it, Red?"

She peeks nervously out into the other room, watching Red dump the bag of pretzels in the middle of her bed. Then she sees him start unbuttoning his coat, a gesture that tells her he's intending to stay for a while. He quickly tears his arms out of the sleeves of his coat and dumps that on her bed, too. _What on earth is he doing? Why is he even here? He does know she's leaving in barely half an hour for her date, right? _

"I thought we could veg out on your bed, Lizzie," Red goes on a second later as he looks around the motel room curiously, immediately answering her unspoken thoughts. "Have you seen Gone With The Wind? That's supposedly playing on the TV tonight..."

"Um, no. I don't think I have ever seen that movie. What about it?"

"Good Lord, you have to, Lizzie. It's a late 1930's classic." She hears him sigh wistfully all the way from where she stands in front of the bathroom mirror, and she knows one of his monologues is coming on. And damn, she's right. "I'll never forget the first time I watched that movie, Lizzie. That last scene with Scarlett O'Hara and Rhett Butler, oh god, it literally gave me goose bumps. In fact, it still does, even after thirty years..."

"That's nice," Liz murmurs, not really interested. "Still, all of this doesn't exactly explain why you're here though, Red? Or is that your point? You thought you'd come over and talk me into eating seaweed pretzels while watching Gone With The Wind with you?"

"Essentially, yes. That's the reason, Lizzie."

"Um, did you forget?" Maybe he actually has?

She catches him rolling his eyes at her question, tongue pushing out the side of his cheek insolently, as if the topic is so very boring to him. "Forget what?"

"That I'm busy tonight? Need I remind you that I actually have a date tonight?"

_Of course_ he didn't forget. He was just hoping, _somehow_, maybe selfishly, that he could sway her mind and perhaps coerce her into forgetting all about the Russian and stay in with him tonight... In his view, his company was so much more thrilling than the Russian's could ever be.

She doesn't bother listening to his reply; Instead switching on the hairdryer to the most highest setting so it drowns his voice out completely. She makes a face at herself in the mirror. _She can't believe him!_ He has to come over now, when he has to know she'll be getting ready for her date. Something tells her, a growing faint suspicion in her gut, that he probably did this on purpose. It definitely hasn't been the first time he's appeared inconveniently like this. But why would he do that to her? He's seriously the most confusing man she's ever met, period.

Once she's done finger drying her hair, she peeks out the bathroom again, foolishly hoping he's gotten the hint and has left her to her own devices. To her disappointment, that's not so. He's sitting on the edge of her bed, hands clasped tightly in his lap, heaven knows why. _What the hell is he doing on her bed?_

"That was a hint, Red. A hint that you should leave." Since there isn't much else that can be done with her hair, she strides back into the room, finding her boots, feeling the fabric on her dress loose and hanging off her back strangely. Although she doesn't exactly like the thought of sitting next to him on her bed, she doesn't exactly have a choice, so she sits down beside him, careful to keep some distance while she starts pulling her boots on. "While I appreciate the fact that you came all the way here with the goal of us hanging out and watching an old movie together, I'm sorry but I can't do it, not tonight. Another night, maybe."

He says nothing, just nods a couple of times, lifting his chin as he stares at the wall across from where they are sitting. For some reason, a surge of pity fills her for him. In quiet moments like this, she tends to feel a little sorry for Red. Sometimes he can come across as so lonely, so starved to spend time with her.

She knows that she's the only one he truly has. He has no friends, no one to spend time with. Just business connections. Maybe Dembe is a rare friend to him, but he doesn't have many in his life. Maybe that's just why he randomly showed up at her motel room? He wants her friendship?

Overcome with pity for him, she reaches over with her hand and finds one of his, giving it a tight squeeze with her own. At the comforting gesture, Red turns to meet her eyes, peering deeply in hers intensely, as if searching for something she's not sure of that he's wanting to find in them. The closeness of their faces and the fact that their sitting on the mattress that she's been sleeping on for little more than a week is mildly disconcerting on her, but she tries not to let it show.

And then she's royally done, failed, and she avoids his gaze, removing her hand from over his and setting it safely in her lap instead. Her eyes automatically drift to the time on her clock. Shit.

Eager to break this weird feeling of tension swirling around them, Liz forces herself to stand. "Red, I really have to get going. I don't exactly want to be late. Lateness doesn't leave a good impression, right?"

Coincidentally realizing he's a member of the opposite sex, she turns to peer down at him. It won't hurt to get a second opinion, right?

"Uh, what... what do you think?" she asks him uncertainly. Her hands suddenly feel sweaty as he lifts his head to meet her gaze, and she runs her palms down the side of the dress. "I mean, is it too much? For a first date?"

"Oh god, Lizzie." The words are deep and barely audible as he shakes his head, looking her over with appreciation gleaming in his eyes. He gives her a tight-lipped smile, eyeing her from head to toe like she's a deity. "That dress," he chuckles breathlessly, tilting his head a little. Immediately she knows he's made the connection and that he remembers its the same dress she wore when they infiltrated the Syrian Embassy together.

To Red, it isn't quite that memory that has stuck out to him of that evening. It was the way Lizzie felt, to hold her in his arms, the first woman he has properly held in a long time. Oh, and _the dancing_.

She has to look away because, for some reason, it's all too much.

"Yeah, this is that very same dress. I threw out most of my other clothes so... this was basically the only dress I had left. Do you think it's too much for a first date, though? Should I put something else on instead?" She huffs. "God, I don't know." Her brow creases as she stares down at her hands, suddenly feeling helpless. "I never thought I'd actually be doing this, not ever. Then again, I always thought that..."

Her throat tightens and she has to inhale in deeply to stop herself from getting too emotional. Her throat feels too tight, as if she has something wedged in it.

"I guess I always assumed that Tom and I would be together for the rest of our lives. I never thought I'd be going out on a date with someone else, but..." Trying to loosen herself up, she flops her arms around at her sides, trying to work the tension out of them. "Here we are, it's happening." She gives Red a forced smile, although she suspects she isn't being very convincing. "It's time to move on and I'm... I'm fine with that. Really." She's not sure whether she's just saying that for herself, or whether she truly accepts it, that she's fine. She doesn't know at all.

Red stands from the mattress and before she knows it, she's in his arms. She doesn't know how she got there, but she is. His arms are wrapped around her, he's holding her close against his body, shushing her with one arm carefully around her neck, pulling her in and holding her tight. She doesn't slip her arms around him, but she gives herself in, leaning against him and closing her eyes, resting the side of her cheek against the warm, slippery fabric of his vest. She's used to this, by him comforting her when he feels she is in need, and like every other time it happens, she's filled with a wholeness. A wholeness only Red can seem to offer her. All that he has done to her, killing her father and her rage, _everything_, seems somehow in the past whenever he holds her like this.

Only this time it's different.

She feels no wetness on her cheeks, no tears. She isn't crying; something that usually acts as his motivator to pull her in and hold her close. She feels one of his hands brush her hair back, stroking it gently with his fingertips. He rests her head under his chin, then he seems to be bored by that, because instead he decides to press a kiss against her hairline, the middle of her forehead, the side of her cheek an inch from her left eyelid.

Liz is going to be late, but being held like this, it doesn't seem to concern her anymore. She'll enjoy it while she has the chance.

Red doesn't know why he's doing it, but he presumes it's that strange maternal instinct he has when it comes to his Lizzie. All he knows, is that it feels wonderful, so good, holding her in his arms. This is all he wants; Just a quiet, peaceful moment like this, with his Lizzie in his arms, saying nothing, doing nothing.

Then he does it, just because the opportunity has presented itself and because he's been restraining himself from doing it for_ so long_, he's grown tired of it.

Setting aside for the moment how much it will complicate things in the long run, he moves his mouth from her cheek, rubbing his chin into her skin, nuzzling, until he finds his ultimate goal. Without hesitation, he presses his lips into hers, kissing her with all that he's worth, and it's like a big weight has been lifted off his shoulders. He's finally reached home. He ought to have done it earlier, gotten it over with.

It certainly would have spared all of this trouble.

When Reddington's lips close over hers, Liz feels shock gliding through her veins, turning her into ice.

His lips move gently over hers, coaxing her, coercing her to part her lips and respond to him on some level, yet she can't. He's never kissed her, not like this. Never on the mouth. It's the very last thing she expected to happen, while being comforted and held in his arms. She feels immobile, like a statute, but the feeling fortunately dissipates as soon as it begins. Throat tightening again unpleasantly, eyes stinging, she curls her hands around his forearms and pushes him back with all her might. A hand involuntarily covers her lips in shock, and she inhales through her mouth shakily.

This was the man who has been nothing but somewhat paternal to her, straight from the beginning. Her mentor. And he just kissed her. Now it distantly made sense to her; How odd he has acted, ever since last night. He_ is_ jealous and he is feeling threatened, and he wants her, desires her- since he had no qualms about kissing her just then.

How is she meant to think, feel, do? What is she meant to do, now that she's learned that evidently his feelings aren't so fatherly after all? Of course, she'd have to be naïve to believe criminals were asexual, that they have no carnal desires in their bones whatsoever. She just never once presumed Red's feelings for her were of that nature. _Until now_.

All she can think of, through the hazy shock, is, "I'm gonna be late. Excuse me."

She doesn't so much as even look at him or say goodbye as she escapes through the front door of her motel room, leaving him behind, fingers still pressed to her lips. _What can she possibly say?_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Firstly, I own nothing to do with the Blacklist, of course :P**_

_**Thank you all so much, I hope you enjoy this one.**_

* * *

_**Chapter Six**_

By the time she reaches the restaurant, Liz knows she's running terribly late. She feels flushed from the long walk, her hair feels as if its gone all frizzy and static from the moisture in the air and, worst of all, her lips seem to constantly be tingling after what Reddington did to her. She sees Nikolai through the window, sitting at a table all by himself, habitually checking his wristwatch and looking around for any sign of her_. God, she told herself she was going to make a great impression of herself, being early and on time part of that_. But the night obviously had other plans for her.

She feels an emotional wreck as she pushes through the double doors of the restaurant, giving herself a little mental shake, warning herself to get herself together and to snap out of it for the sake of the evening. It feels like her head is everywhere tonight, and not on just one singular thing. As she was walking towards the restaurant, she had spent the past fifteen minutes stressing and working out why Reddington had kissed her the way he had in her motel room, _and still_, she was coming up with no logical answer.

It's oh-so-confusing, and nothing she can properly understand.

_Why_ would he do that? Unless it's all part of some wicked game where he wants to ruin her night with Nikolai. It's easier to think that's the reason, rather than admitting to herself that maybe, just _maybe_, he has developed personal feelings for her. As far as her feelings went for Reddington, she still didn't know the answer to that yet. But if he did it all just to ruin her night and keep her mind on him and other things, rather than her date, he had well and truly succeeded. Already she's having a hard time putting what just happened behind her.

Giving herself one last mental shake, she starts to appoach the table, sucking in a few deep steadying breaths. Nikolai spots her and immediately stands from his chair, grinning widely at her. "You finally made it," he says gently. She knows he's pleased and relieved she finally showed up.

"Yeah, I did. I'm so sorry about my lateness," she apologizes, looking him in the eyes so he knows she truly means it. "Something came up and I just... I lost track of time." It's a lame excuse, but he seems to believe her.

"That's fine. I'm just glad you came. I was starting to think I was going to get stood up."

"No, absolutely not."

"You look beautiful," he says, and she feels herself flush with pleasure as he moves closer to press a quick kiss against her cheek in greeting. "I love the dress but... is it meant to be undone at the back?"

She stares at him for a moment in confusion, her brows furrowing, as he moves back from kissing her. "Excuse me?"

"The back isn't done up on your dress," he laughs, and when Liz shoves a hand behind her back and feels how the fabric is literally hanging off her back, she closes her eyes in embarrasment. Oh, God. No wonder it felt loose around her, she had forgotten to zip it up. And, evidently, Red just let her walk out without even so much as telling her and bothering to help her do it up... _Gee, how nice of him. Knowing him, he probably relished the sight of her heading out with her dress undone._

"God, I never even realized it was undone!" she laughs nervously, trying to break the awkardness between them. But fortunately for her, Nikolai laughs as well, as if the whole thing is particularly endearing of her. "I had no idea. I was just... I was just in such a rush that I must have forgotten to do it up properly before I left!"

"Not to worry. I'll save you," he says light-heartedly, and moving behind her, he truly does, when he zips her dress completely all the way up with care. Instantly, she feels immediately better.

"Thank you so much," she breathes anxiously.

"Not to worry. Please don't mention it." Nikolai steps away from her slowly, gesturing with his hands towards the table and the two empty seats. "Shall we?"

"Of course." Liz's face still feels flushed with heat as she sits. She can't believe that, of all the things to forget, properly zipping up her dress was one of them. To be honest, her brain kind of turned to senseless mush after Red did what he did, completely out of nowhere.

Him kissing her was the equivilant of her being run over by a truck. Something completely unexpected and ground-shaking.

But surely Red would have told her about her dress, wouldn't he? Why didn't he tell her? He probably deliberately didn't tell her, because he wants to sabotage her date that badly. _Bastard. Definitely seems like something he'd do._

He's always ruining her life. Why should she be so surprised now?

_And now's the time to stop thinking about him and focus on the man in front of her... Why is she thinking about Red in the first place?_ It's probably what he wants out of all of this and she's determined not to give him the satisfaction.

A waitress arrives with the menus and Liz is thankful for the distraction. She settles on a glass of chardonnay and pepper steak with creamy mushroom sauce. Her stomach grumbles at the sound of the steak and sauce, and it's only just then she realizes she's starving.

"I'm looking forward to this," she says, just to get the conversation ball rolling again, after the waitress disappears off to deliver their orders. "I'm a big steak fan."

Nikolai grimaces. "Personally, I have never been much of a meat eater myself."

"Well, I always seem to have trouble with iron deficiencies," she says, then scolds herself. Why did she tell him that? _As if he even cares about her constant battle to get enough iron into her diet... _But she's nervous, that's all it is. She's nervous and she doesn't know what to say, so it's making everything awkward. She's not even sure she's ready yet, in starting to get involved with someone again. Perhaps the entire thing is a huge mistake, agreeing to this.

There's another silence between them and then, saving the day, the waitress returns with their drinks.

Liz looks up, fully expecting her chardonnay, and then feels her stomach sink. It isn't her chardonnay. No, it isn't even close to a glass of chardonnay. It's the very same cocktail Red ordered for her that night they went out trying to find a contact. An aviation cocktail. She feels her pulse scatter as she stares at the light blue contents in the martini glass. It may just be a drink, but it has so much more meaning to her than that. _Oh, god. Is it just a pure coincidence, or is Red- dare she even think it- actually somewhere in the restaurant?_

Biting her lip, she turns her head and starts looking around the restaurant, focusing on everyone sitting beside her. As far as she knows, she can't see Red anywhere and, if he was there, surely he would be a hard person to miss. Putting it down to just mere paranoia, she tosses her head and looks back at her date again. The strange feelings won't seem to leave her. Suddenly she feels as if she is being watched, that he's spying on her in some dark and secluded corner, and yet, she can't find him anywhere in the room. Definitely has to be just paranoia.

When she studies her date, she realizes he looks concerned. Damn it, if he isn't handsome though. "Is something wrong?" Nikolai asks slowly.

"No, it's fine. It's just that... well, this isn't the drink I ordered. It's just... weird. I mean, I never ordered this, I ordered the chardonnay." Nikolai goes to flag the waitress but she cuts him off quickly, "Please, no. It... it's fine. I like this drink anyway."

He observes her drink with some confusion. "What is that? I don't even know what that is!"

"It's an aviation cocktail. It's from the twenties," she explains under her breath, and before she even knows what she's doing, she adds, "It tastes like spring." She's using Reddington's words, and she recognizes that. If only words came to her as easily as it seems to do him...

By the time their dinner arrives, Liz finds she's eager to leave. What is she thinking, really? How stupid is she, thinking she can start something up with another man? It's too... complicated. She's too messed up. Not ready, for_ any_ of this. She has too much baggage. But at least her meal is exactly what she ordered, in the peppered steak with the mushroom sauce. And it's good. So good. A bit too on the spicy side, but delicious. Her kind of meal.

The scraping of cutlery is the only thing to be heard between them as they eat. She tries to pace herself in chewing slowly and savoring every bite, despite the fact she's starving and it's uncomfortable, the entire thing.

"So, what do you do for a living?" Nikolai asks through his mouthful of food. Something about a man talking with his mouth full has always gotten to Liz, but she tries not to let it show.

She makes sure she swallows her food down completely before she answers, "Uh, I work for the F.B.I."

"How interesting. Is it something you enjoy?"

"It's... exhausting, but somehow... it makes it fulfilling, coming home at the end of the day. What do you do for a living?"

"Actually, I don't do much. I'm basically unemployed. But I do random jobs here and there."

"Oh, right."

"This is not going too well, is it?" He says after a moment, admitting the obvious.

"It really isn't," she agrees, forcing a smile. "I guess I... I realize this was a huge mistake. Not that it has anything to do with you. I just... I'm not really ready for anything serious right now. And I'm not even sure if I'll ever totally be. The last time, my marriage, it... it worked out horrible, and I suppose it... it's made me distrusting and I find it hard to open up to the idea of something new. I have a lot of... issues. I'm probably the most messed-up person you would ever meet. " Something tells her she's saying too much, but when she meets Nikolai's eyes again, she discovers he looks relieved by her honesty. "I think you're great, and you're very... handsome, but my life right now, it's just too complicated." She gives out a weary laugh. "I just don't think this will be going anywhere else than where it is tonight."

"Well, thank you for being honest with me. I got the sense that you felt that way." He pauses for a moment, picking up his napkin and dabbing around his face. "And it's sad, that a beautiful young woman like you feels that way. But it's fine, I understand. We can-"

Cutting through his words and through her concentration, water suddenly spurts out from what is probably the sprinkler system, and immediately, everything and everyone gets drenched. Liz can't help but wonder if this is a sign, a sign that this is wrong, or maybe it's just all Reddington's doing, which hardly would surprise her if it was. But she finds herself strangely relieved.

With the fire protection system going off in the room, she takes it as a good excuse to call it an end to the date. Water soaks through her dress and her hair feels heavy and drips against her face as they follow everyone outside.

"Well, it was wonderful meeting you anyway," she says, shivering violently in her dress.

"Yes, you too. I wish you all the very best, Liz."

She gives him an apologetic smile. "You, too."

Leaning up, she kisses him on his wet cheek, and then that's that, nothing else can be said. Wrapping her arms around herself to hopefully stop her shivering, she starts walking down the street, not back to her motel room but with another destination in mind. She doesn't know what she's going to say to him or how she's possibly going to resolve this, but all she knows is that they have to have a good talk. She has to come to some sort of understanding because, as for right now, she doesn't understand anything. And it's doing her head in.

Once she arrives to the building of his hotel room, she gets into the elevator, mentally preparing herself. She rehearses a few questions inside her head, the burning ones that she needs to know the answers to. It's too bad that there's so many, so many questions she wants to ask. It's impossible to sort out the most important one.

Once the elevator opens up on his floor and she marches towards his hotel room, she doesn't bother knocking, which is probably the politest thing she could have done. Red keeps his door unlocked always anyway. He's practically inviting himself to a confrontation with her.

Still, he's clearly unprepared for her visit when she barges in to find him sitting comfortably on a recliner armchair, legs up and resting on an ottoman and a small table strategically placed near the chair so he can reach his glasses of scotch and effortlessly pour himself a refill with the bottle that sits there in the center of it.

Somehow her little rehearsal in her head gets lost on her and flies out of the window when she comes to stand near him. He says nothing, but he's clearly surprised by her visit; He isn't expecting it, not at this hour, and it shows in the widening of his eyes and the way he maneuvers his legs and drops his feet off the ottoman to the floor.

"Lizzie, I take it your date with the Russian didn't go too swimmingly then?" He dares to pull the sleeve back on his white business shirt and check the time on his watch, squinting at the time the little hands are pointing to.

Her questions get lost on her by the anger that suddenly rises inside of her. She scoffs out loud. "Oh, please, _don't_ give me that. It's what _you wanted_, isn't it? You wanted _this whole thing_ to turn out this way, didn't you?"

Infuriatingly, he doesn't say anything in response. Just stares at her.

"Well, congratulations, you've won. It was a complete disaster."

It's impossible to know what he's thinking, when Red works his jaw and his eyes slowly roam down her body, taking in the dress, the dampness of her hair. The muscle near his eye gives off its little twitch. "You're all wet. Did something happen tonight?"

He's a very convincing actor, she has to give him credit there. But she knows the truth, she knows he was truly the one behind it all. He's the reason the water sprinkler started in the restaurant tonight, the reason for the aviation cocktail being brought to her table. She just knows it.

"Don't play innocent with me, you _know what_ happened, you were in there!" She had maybe told herself in the elevator that she was going to try her very best to not get so angry with him. Too late. There's no hope in hell of putting a lid on it now, and he naturally brought that side out of her. He's just an infuriating, smug bastard, all around. "It was all part of your sick plan, wasn't it? You _wanted_ to ruin the _whole thing_ for me! First it was the drink, and then it was the sprinkler system! It was _you_ that was behind it, _all of it_, this whole time!"

Accusing and blaming him is like second nature to her. And, _damn it_, she _knows_ she's right on this!

He gives out a short, stunned laugh, holding a hand out in what probably should be a placating way to her. It gives the opposite effect of what he's hoping for and she's clenching her teeth so hard, they start to hurt. "Your egotism never ceases to astound me. Believe it or not, Lizzie, my main objective in life isn't to ruin Elizabeth Keen's world. But if that makes you feel happier at the end of the day, laying all the blame on me- which we both know fairly well by now that you do- then by all means-"

"-You were there tonight, hiding somewhere!" she cut him off, her voice vibrating in anger. "You ordered me that drink so I could do nothing else but think about this whole... _thing..._ between us! This..._ relationship_ or partnership!"

"No," he says simply, shaking his head vehemently.

"You were! You knew how much I was looking forward to this, and so you wanted to sabotage it! Is this what it's all about? You have no personal friends, to you it's all business and the criminals on your list, and you want _me_ to be that way too, don't you?"

"Not at all. I-"

"-You _don't want me_ having a personal life or any distractions, is that it? You want me focused solely on the cases on your list, and you don't want me having any friends or heading out on dates!" Now that she's spewing it all out loud, it suddenly became clear to her. It's the only logical, realistic explanation for all of this. "That's what this is all about, isn't it? You don't want me having any outside distractions, because it goes against what you're working for, in the grand scheme of things?" After letting it all out, she looks at him, her chest heaving.

There's a long moment of silence, where Red just stares at her. Then, biting the inside of his cheek and giving his head a little shake, he says, "You should go, Lizzie."

It's the very last thing she's expecting. _Why isn't he even trying to fight back, like he usually does? Why isn't he even going to try justify his actions?_

She gapes. "What?"

"I said go, Lizzie." His voice is low and gentle, but she hears the dangerous undertone in it. "Get the hell out. _Now_."

"Fine," she whispers, her anger thoroughly diminished. Well, that's one way to get her off-guard. He's never really demanded her leave before. Just as she reaches the door, it comes to her suddenly. The main reason she came in the first place. A light bulb flickering on, making her remember. She turns on the spot to face him again. He's not looking at her. His gaze is on the contents in the glass bottle on the table. "Before I go, I just want to know one thing. I need an answer, and I need to know why you did it. I just... I don't understand. So... tell me why you would possibly do it? Tell me why when you've... never done it before? There's been no prior indications there about it, _nothing_!"

She's talking about the kiss incident, of course. She just hopes he understands what she's subtly hinting about himself. She's not so sure he even does.

He refuses to look at her, even when he reaches over and touches the bottle of scotch. But she refuses to leave. Not yet, not until he tells her why. She hears him give out a long sigh through his nostrils and she knows she's putting him on the spot. She doesn't care, though.

"Why did you do it, Red?" she asks again desperately, just in case _he has_ in fact forgotten. "Earlier tonight. In my room. Why? _Tell me_!"

Still, Red refuses to look at her. He refuses to answer. Maybe he's hoping she'll get bored with standing there, waiting eagerly for an explanation, and that she'll just give up and leave? Well, over her dead body.

"_Look_ at me when I'm talking to you," she spits out angrily, and finally, he does. He turns his head and his eyes meet hers, and his mouth parts, yet nothing comes out. She needs to know. She just needs to. "Why did you do it?" she tries again, raising her voice a little. "Or was it just another part of you wanting to ruin my night?"

Something flickers across his face then, but she's not sure what it is.

"I'm a criminal," he finally speaks, a singing spiteful taunt in the words. His words are his weapon, cutting into her like a knife in the back, something she's not suspecting from him. "And, according to you, Agent Keen, criminals don't have any feelings. I'm made of stone, I feel nothing. I'm just a mere... _shell_ of a man, with no desires and no particular whispers of devotion to anyone. I'm just this... machine, with no feelings to you. So, thank you for making that perfectly clear yet again, on just what I am to you and what you view me as." The intensity of his gaze gets too much on her, especially with the painful, biting words, and Liz has to look away. She's managed to hurt him, yet she doesn't know how. "The reason I did what I did, is obviously something you have never even thought to consider or no less have even started to, and I'm certainly not going to go out on yet another limb and tell you the reason now, not while you're like this, not tonight. Because, to you, I'm just a..._ thing_. An asset to you, this_ thing_ with no personal set of feelings, apart from some apparent... purpose to cause the desecration of your life. So thank you, and _please..._ leave and get out. _Now_."

And he doesn't have to tell her twice.

_**Hope you enjoyed this one? Lizzie puts her foot in it with the accusations and Red won't admit the reason why he kissed her, as he knows she possibly isn't ready to hear the answer yet. Don't worry, there will be a good result out of all of it, Liz still just can't fathom his feelings lol. Hope you had an awesome NY!**_


	7. Chapter 7

Firstly, I own nothing to do with BL, and never will.

I want to thank you all so much. You're such a kind and awesome bunch. I'm writing this late at night, so if there is any mistakes, its all my fault and due to sleepiness while writing. Hope you enjoy this one. You guys make me feel very humbled and mind-blown by being so supportive and nice. TY!

* * *

_**Chapter Seven**_

When Liz gets safely inside her motel room, she closes the door, locks it automatically, and leans her back against the hard wood. The tragic silence in the room makes her ears ring; It taunts and torments her almost. _This is so far from what she used to have, so far from what she was used to having, with Tom..._

Taking a deep shuddering breath, she looks around the room, feeling empty inside. Empty and drained. So, her conversation with Reddington didn't go too well. It's definitely not how she had played it all panning out inside her head. Her heart feels heavy with despair and, frustrating of all, she feels on the verge of breaking down and sobbing. She's edging to that point of having a total, unstoppable meltdown.

Usually she would go to Reddington during a moment like this, one where she was completely in need of an empathetic and non-judgmental ear to listen to her and let her have a good cry. He's always so good with that; So incredibly patient and willing to listen, to let her let off some steam. He always seems to have a magical way with words; He always seems to know all the right ways to make her feel better.

Yet, right now, she can't have that. Not with him. Not now, not after what she's done.

He told her to leave. For once, Red actually raised _his_ voice at her, told her to leave and get out. She must have really succeeded in pissing him off this time. And really, can she blame him?

She doesn't have the slightest clue how she got this way. How she's turned into this... thing; This malicious and vindictive person who says harsh and mean words without thinking. Reddington's words come back to her. He thinks she regards him as this thing, this thing without any feelings. She realizes she's _the thing_, not him.

When did _she _turn into this thing?

"My god," she laughs at herself bitterly, burying her face in her hands. "You idiot. What the hell is wrong with you?"

She doesn't know the answer to that. And the defeating silence that greets her from in her room at the spoken question tells her that no one else has the answer to that either.

In her defense, she has never really learned how to manage her anger. It remains inside of her, sometimes for days and days, all this anger and resentment, until the point where it all suddenly comes exploding out and it's impossible for her to stop and take a second to truly hear the words she is flinging around out of her mouth carelessly and just what she's daring to accuse people of.

Things had not been going well between her and Red for a while now. It started when she found out he was the one responsible for killing her father, that he had been in the hospital with him when he died. Every time she had to tolerate him for the sake of getting information out of him regarding cases, she could feel that anger, resentment, and spite building, welling higher and higher inside of her. It was only just a matter of time before it all came out somehow, and evidently, it had decided to tonight. The casket blew tonight in his hotel room.

And Red's right, of course he is. He's always had a way of knowing what she was truly feeling, deep down inside, as if he's some kind of animal that can sniff out her upmost private feelings that she doesn't dare express out into the open with anyone. She doesn't realize it, until now and while letting his words digest in completely now that she's alone and has some good thinking time to herself, that he's completely accurate. On _everything _that he's said. Maybe it's true, in that she doesn't view him as a proper person anymore?

He's just this force field that came into her life out of the blue, obliterating every single thing in her path and turning every facet of her life into wreckage and dust. That's how she's been seeing him the past few weeks; He's not so much a person to her, but this... thing that's sole intent in mind is to interfere with her life.

He spoon feeds her his knowledge and information into the next person on his list, she swallows it up, he spoon feeds her again, and so on and so forth. That's all it is to her now. She's distanced herself off from him completely. He no longer has power or effect on her anymore, because she doesn't bother... feeling or letting him in anymore.

Whenever they are together, when she looks at him, she sees him as nothing more than that cold-blooded monster, albeit in sheep's clothing; A monster that murdered the one good and real thing in her life that she had left. He murdered Sam, and seeing past that... it's near impossible.

And because of that, the idea that he may even have any sort of personal feelings for her are way out of the question. Her mind simply refuses to go there. It can't go there. Not ever, not even for a minute. Maybe the entire point of what he was telling her, was that he did, in fact, have feelings for her, but she still regards him as this monster, someone cold and unfeeling? What the hell was he trying to say to her?

All Liz knows is that he has been acting strange, ever since Nikolai came into the picture. It has to be all due to him being worried her dating will compromise her dedication to her job, and nothing else. It's the closest thing she can come up with.

She may be being daft here, but if Reddington has truly started to have feelings for her, then he might as well have a blaring neon sign on his forehead that screams that out to her, because she just can't possibly see that as being the underlying issue for all of his aloofness lately.

God, all this thinking is enough to give her a tension headache.

Forcing her hands away from her face, she gives them a sharp shake to tell herself to get it together, and then she gets out of her dress for bed. Pulling the covers back and feeling goose pimples all over her skin, she climbs in hurriedly, sighing at the immediate warmth of the covers and resting the back of her head against the pillow as she stares up at the ceiling.

For one self-indulgent moment, she humors herself, just for one minute, with the notion of Reddington being in love with her. It just seems far too... unrealistic. They've been working together on cases for months on end now, and not once has there been any indication that he felt anything for her in that light. _Okay, well, excluding tonight, how he kissed her on the mouth. _

She tries to assimilate how she would feel about that, about Reddington being in love with her, all along. About being in love with her as his sole motivator for turning himself into the FBI the way he did, in demanding under no uncertain terms that he speak only with her. She huffs in laughter doubtfully at the idea. How could a man like Raymond Reddington find himself being in love with her?

Honestly, she still doesn't know why she's so special to him. Not even now.

Really focusing and letting the pitch-black darkness in the room engulf her, she tries to properly imagine being with Reddington. To them being more than just what they are now, working partners. To not just only Reddington sharing vital information with her and being her informant, but also to... coming to his hotel room at the end of a long day. Kissing him. Waking in a set of sheets next to him of a morning. Being more than just as they are now.

To her horror, her body doesn't react with shudders of revulsion. She doesn't get the uncontrollable urge to throw up, or hit something. What a traitor her body is. He murdered her father and yet, the idea of being with him is hardly intolerable to her. It's just something unrealistic to her, something that she knows would never, ever happen between them. And maybe that's why it doesn't scare or disgust her, in fantasizing for a moment how it would be like if they were actually together intimately? Because she knows it is far from anything that would happen in reality? It's safe to wonder about it for a few seconds, because it's not reality, and it'll never become reality.

There's not a chance in hell that Reddington is in love with her. That's not the reason he kissed her tonight. Because, men like Raymond Reddington, they are incapable of love.

He's just using her and manipulating her in order to reach the fruition of his own personal motive.

He may constantly seek her trust and want her to know that she has him there for her whenever she is upset or in need, but it isn't really because of anything personal that he is feeling for her. No, he's a monster, a good actor, and it's all for his own personal gain. He wants her to feel vulnerable and as if she has no one else to turn to, but him.

This pattern of thought seems so much more realistic to her, than anything else. It's probably because she has been thinking that way for so long, ever since he first came into her life. But it's like something deeply ingrained into her, that line of thinking. She can never see anything he does differently. He's using her and trying to manipulate how she is feeling, that's it; Nothing more, nothing less.

It's no doubt what he wanted, all along, in all of this. He wanted her to think he was jealous of her going off with Nikolai straight from the beginning, when really, he was mainly just worried about her getting distracted and her mind not being focused solely on cases.

The notion of Reddington being in love with her would open up a humongous can of worms, and frankly, she'd prefer not to think that way. She refuses to. There's just no way possible.

No love. No personal feelings arising for her.

Just manipulation and games.

* * *

When she gets dressed the next morning, Liz gets a text message from Dembe informing her of their meeting place for the morning at a park she vaguely remembers visually at the top of her head. Her eyes sting and she feels as if she hasn't slept a wink, despite the fact she probably did. She feels as if she hasn't slept at all, and there's this permanent knot in her stomach this morning, this tension in her belly that refuses to go away.

She considers replying to the text message, to tell Reddington to just forget it, that she's done and she's resigning for good this time. Doing that seems far more pleasing to her than actually having to see him and having to endure being near him right now. Usually Liz doesn't feel so apprehensive about meeting Red, but this morning she does. She actually feels physically sick inside.

She has no idea how to act after their argument last night, and, more so, after he kissed her . She knows she should probably apologize to him over all that she said, for the sake of putting it all behind them, so that they can get work done. Everyone- Cooper, Ressler, the team back at the PO- they all expect her to get valuable information out of Reddington, and she feels that expectation and the weight of it all resting on her shoulders more now today than she normally does.

She has to make sure everything is pleasant between them, otherwise she gets nothing from him and she risks letting the entire team down.

Apologizing to him is the last thing she wants to do, and she knows she can be stubborn, often to a fault, but she just doesn't want to apologize. She wants to pretend last night never happened, to just forget it all, and put it behind them in the past. She wants it never to be spoken of ever again.

That sensation of wanting to vomit gets even more intense once she reaches the location he arranged for the morning. She pauses from her walking as she sees him almost instantly as he sits on a bench, wearing his tinted aviators even though its a dim and murky morning with no sunlight streaming down on them, his arms stretched out on the bench, one leg crossed over his knee, the epitome of relaxation. Every time she sees him, she swears he's virtually a walking, talking add for menswear; He's got his light grey three piece suit on today, finished off with a white fedora. Even Liz has to admit he always looks good. Impeccable, even.

She feels so very tempted to just turn right around and flee off into the opposite direction, yet that idea is instantly ruined when he turns his head and looks in her direction, his head tilted slightly on an angle. Liz has no idea whether he is actually staring at her, since she can't see his eyes thanks to the sunglasses, but she has no doubt in her mind whatsoever that it is her he is looking at.

She registers that his expression is completely impassive, that he doesn't look angry or as if he wants to continue their argument from last night, so for that, she's relieved. A sigh escapes her mouth and gritting her teeth, she forces herself to keep approaching him regardless of her hearts desire to flee and never return.

Halfway towards him, Liz sees Red deliberately glance off into another direction and she feels all the tension leave her body immediately. It's easier to do this when he isn't observing her every move, like she's some kind of prey he's studying.

She's just about to sit beside him on the wooden bench when he looks up at her and holds a styrofoam cup out to her. She hesitates to take it from him, feeling her eyebrows arch in confusion. Then gritting her teeth again, she accepts the cup and sits, peeling the lid open suspiciously. She knows it's coffee the instance she peers inside at the scolding hot, brown contents, but for the sake of making conversation, she still bothers to ask distrustfully, "What's this?"

"Coffee. Also, a peace offering."

"A peace offering?" The minute she repeats that, she knows what's coming. "For what? What's this peace offering business really about?"

_So much for pretending last night never happened..._

"For killing my father? Is that what this is all about?" The instance it tears carelessly through her mouth, so impetuously, she knows she can't take it back. It's too late now. She might as well say it all, and get it over with now that she has the chance. She turns, scrutinizing him carefully with slitted eyes. She thinks she sees something there. A small flicker of pain coming across his face, a small bit of tension around his jaw. _So he isn't as heartless as she keeps thinking, after all... _"You think buying me a lousy coffee is going to make up for what you did to my father? You think this excuses everything that's happened thus far?"

Her eyes are still on him as he brings his own cup of coffee to his lips, taking in a small sip. He refuses to look at her, exactly like he did last night. Clearly this was going to be last night all over again. At least he seems truly remorseful over what he did. She can't pretend not to acknowledge that.

"I can forgive you about the whole thing with Tom and my marriage." It takes a lot for her to admit that out loud, and she hates the trembling in her voice as she says it, the hard lump forming in her throat. She clears her throat gently and forces herself to look away from him, staring off faraway into the park. At the long stretches of green grass spreading out before them. "But the one thing I can never forgive you for is... for my father. If you really think coffees gonna be enough for me to-"

"-This is hardly about Sam at all," Red finally speaks, clear and concisely, cutting through her words. She can hear the impatience in his voice to get that across to her. "This has absolutely nothing at all to do with Sam. I believe I already said my piece on that."

"Then why?"

"This is about last night, that's all. I detest how we left off. And I'm... sorry that I yelled at you."

The entire thing- Red being the first to apologize to her- it's just so ridiculous to her. Unable to help it, she laughs incredulously at his words, still staring off into the distance, refusing to so much as glance his way again. It isn't funny, not really. It's just... unexpected and completely not what she deserves. He shouldn't be the one apologizing, she should be the one to, and she realizes that now. This definitely isn't what she is expecting from him.

"You're apologizing when it's basically the first time you've ever raised your voice at me? I barged into your hotel room uninvited in the middle of the night, and what do I do? The instance I got in I... I accused you like I always tend to do, and yet, you're the one apologizing?" She bites down on her lip to stop herself from laughing inappropriately again. "I deserved it, I realize that now. It was inappropriate and all my accustions were completely unfounded." She presses her lips together, because she doesn't want to say too much, to give him too much leverage. But then she decides to hell with it and just says what's on her mind anyway. Besides, talking to him always seems to help, dare she admit it. "I just... I don't know what's wrong with me lately. I'm so snappy and full of resentment and hate. I'm just... I'm not the person I used to be. But I think I changed the minute you came into my life and began all of this."

She looks at him, finding Red looking at her, absorbing her words intently as he always does. Somewhere during their conversation and her thoughtful rambling, he removed his sunglasses, they're hanging off the collar of his shirt coolly, and she isn't completely prepared for it when she meets his eyes. His expression is focused and engaged in listening to her, as he always is, something she always can't help but find comfort in. But when she meets his eyes, she finds it incredibly difficult to look away. Maybe he's been watching her the entire time? She's not even totally sure.

"Something tells me that you want to turn me into someone more like you. Someone with no friends, no husband... no anything. No distractions, just work until you complete whatever it is that you truly want to accomplish out of this. It's nothing personal, to you. You're just... using me for your own ends and are set on destroying my life in the proccess and turning me into this... _thing _like you."

She stares at him anxiously, maybe hoping foolishly for a confimation from him that he isn't.

"I just don't know what to think anymore. I mean, I realize I don't even know who I am anymore. I just... I don't know who I am, but if there is one thing that I do know, it's that I..." She pauses for a moment, searching desperately for the right words. "I'm... I suppose I'm broken and if there's one thing I've learned out of all of this, out of these past few days, it's that I can never be with someone again. Not in the way I had it with Tom."

Red moves his jaw and looks away from her, so she looks away from him, too, sliding both hands tightly over her cup of coffee.

"I can never be with someone ever again, not like how it was with Tom. I know that now, and... last night, the date, it was a huge mistake to think that I ever could in the first place."

She laughs aloud at her own stupidity, tossing her head. _God, suddenly now it's all so clear to her. _

"I can never trust someone, because I... I never want to be hurt again, like the way it was with Tom. I'll never let myself be that... close to someone again because the first time, with Tom... I was just so naive that I never even saw it coming and I'll... I'll never let myself be that way again. God,_ never_ again."

"That's what being in love is, Lizzie. Unconditional," Red says gently, without looking at her. "It's being... blinded by another's faults. Or who they truly, really are. When you're in love, it never truly matters until it does."

Last thing she even expected was to be talking about love with Raymond Reddington, of all people. But somehow they've gotten there.

She wants to cry, but she reigns it in with all her might. She clenches her teeth tightly, ignoring the way her face hurts from repressing it all so hardly. She's not going to let herself cry in front of Red this time. She's determined not to. Not this time.

"You know, it's funny because I used to be so daunted by the idea, so... scared to be alone, but now I'm not. I think it's best for me, for... how I am now."

Despite not knowing why she's doing it, she finds herself glancing over at Red for some type of positive reinforcement. Only she doesn't get it, not today; He's glancing away from her, tension there in his eyes, something she can't quite figure out.

"I never thought I'd be saying it, but... I'm not afraid anymore. To die alone, I mean. I just don't care anymore. I don't care about being alone anymore, if it means never having to go through what I did with Tom ever again. I think that's how I... I realized last night that it would never work out between Nikolai and I. I just... I think it's best if I'm alone forever. I don't want to get hurt that way ever again, not just by trusting someone and loving them."

"Well, I'm glad." Red finally glances over at her, his eyes meeting hers. She might be mistaken, but he appears to be straining to say something to her. Like there's something there he wants to tell her, something important. There's frustration there in his eyes and his eyebrows crease. Only he doesn't say what he's going to say, which makes her heart sink. Instead, he bites the inside of his cheek, closes his mouth with a nod, and gives her what seems to be an imitation of a carefree smile. "I'm glad you have that all worked out, Lizzie." He clears his throat loudly, as if he has something stuck in it, and she sees him glance quickly at his watch, squinting. "Now, where, uh, were we? Ah, yes, I believe we should get back on track with discussing the case, otherwise you are going to be late and dear Harold will be frazzled."

Liz can't help but get the suspicion that he's hiding something else from her. But when he begins informing her light-heartedly on the next Blacklister, it's easy to put it behind her and focus on what he is saying instead.

Red's surprisingly off his game today, and Liz notices that. He talks with all the confidence he usually does, but he seems more restless this morning than he usually is. He tends to talk with his hands but today its more so than usual; Especially in the way he keeps touching his face and rubbing his chin. She can't help but wonder if its intentional because it certainly keeps her eyes glued to his mouth as he talks and halfway through trying to be attentitive and focused, she sees him kissing her all over again last night. It's a mental flash that tears through her vision and disrupts her concentration completely.

He hasn't mentioned what happened with that at all, and she wonders if he ever will. Or perhaps she's just making a big deal out of nothing? Clearly it was nothing to him, something he has already forgotten about, so maybe she should, too?

She starts to feel hot and, just to make herself stop it, she glances down at her cup of coffee instead, distracting herself by drinking it instead. She wants to hate him, she resents him on some level because of what he did to Sam, yet she enjoys his company and how he lets her say whatever is on her mind when she needs someone to listen to her. Her feelings are definitely everything, in regards to him, and she has no idea where to even possibly begin on sorting them out.

Belatedly, it occurs to her that Reddington has gone silent and he's just staring at her, waiting for her to speak. God, where was her mind at today? "Okay, right," she gets out in a rush, because she doesn't want him to know she's preoccupied on other things, "Got it. I think that's everything."

"I love you, Lizzie," she thinks she hears him say softly, vulnerably, but when she glances over at him in shock, he's already standing from the bench while readjusting the brim of his hat on his head.

He's not looking at her- in fact, he's waiting for Dembe to arrive with the car outside of the park- and it definitely doesn't seem as if he said anything to her just then. Especially not something as huge as a declaration of love, anyway.

She stands slowly from the bench, hardly feeling the ground under her shoes. She feels numb from the head down. "Did you just say that you-" she splutters.

"I said _good luck_. With _the case_." It's impossible to tell with him, but when he meets Liz's eyes directly, she can't doubt the sincerity in either them or his expression. It's obviously just her imagination playing tricks on her, then. "Now, if you find yourself in need of me, for any reason, then you know what number to call. Or, at the very least, I'll come to you."

Eager to shake the weirdness of how she's feeling and what she thinks she might have just heard, Liz forces a smile on her face and nods at him.

"Are you all right?" Red searches her face with concern and she hopes he can't notice anything. Reddington always tends to know somehow if there's something wrong with her or not, but she prays with all her might he can't this time.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"You sure?"

As if to put weight to the question, he reaches over and puts a hand on her shoulder. He gives her shoulder-blade one light squeeze with his hand, and then he runs it down the side of her arm. She deliberately steps back a few steps, putting safe distance between them, enough that Red's hand falls back at his side. She hates the sudden breathless sensation that has overcome her.

"Yeah. Everything's... fine."


End file.
